


How Can I Protect You?

by ktao3



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: A guy being an asshole to Chloe Price and getting punched for it, Chloe is a badass, Dude-no, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Love, Mild Sexual Content, There's some David too, i mean he says something rude about Max, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktao3/pseuds/ktao3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year after the events of Life Is Strange, a day in the life of Chloe Price and Max Caulfield in which a guy is an asshole to Chloe, they get in a fistfight, and Chloe is left thinking about how much violence intrudes in our everyday lives. There is some fluff and loving between Max and Chloe too. It's hard to summarize . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Can I Protect You?

**Author's Note:**

> This is another story set after a non-canon "third ending" in which Max gets shot in the bathroom to save Chloe and everyone lives. (My personal favorite version of these events is The Hospital Ending, by Israel Blargh, available on this site. It's a great story, so check it out if you love this ship.)
> 
> This story happens at some point before the main framing events of my story Max Caulfield's Favorite Room. The stories happen in the same timeline/universe as each other. If you like this, you might want to read that one too. That one is told more from Max's point of view than this is.
> 
> Finally, if you like an angsting Chloe, you might like my story This Is Us Forever, which examines teenage Chloe's grieving and relationship with Joyce after her father dies.

It's a Friday, late afternoon, late September 2014. Chloe Price lounges across the steps in front of the fountain at Blackwell Academy, waiting for Max. She's leaning on an elbow, smoking a cigarette, and watching a group of guys . . . skating. "Skating." Max has returned to Blackwell after missing most of last year recovering from a gunshot wound—a wound she suffered saving Chloe's life. Chloe takes a long, deep drag on her cigarette and exhales for at least 10 seconds with her eyes closed.  


She tries not to think about everything that happened last fall. How this time last year, she thought, hoped, that Rachel was maybe still alive. That stupid shit with her and Nathan. So stupid. Not to mention everything Max went through alone for her. Well, with some other version of her. The one who kept dying. Chloe still can't really wrap her head around most it. SHE hasn't died once, unless you count dying inside. Not that anyone does. Well, Max would. Max has endless pools of empathy, especially after last fall. Just one of the many things she loves about her. Damn, she's the greatest. Chloe feels the corners of her mouth twitch up with the ghost of a smile as she takes another drag and thinks about her girlfriend.  


Today after Max's last class, she and Chloe will head over to the Two Whales for free dinner, then Max is sleeping over at Chloe's. So, this is going to be a good night. Now, things are pretty good in general. Chloe's smile broadens even as her eyes remain a little clouded.  


Because Chloe is 20 years old now, she's surprised she recognizes any of the guys grinding the walls and trying small flips and manuals in front of the school. Or maybe it's not so surprising. The slacker culture of Arcadia Bay is strong. Not a lot of jobs to go around and plenty of 20-year-old guys happy to try to impress arty high school girls on a Friday afternoon. Chloe rolls her eyes. More like trying to impress each other.  


Other than with Max and her mom (and, very rarely, David), Chloe's never quite sure where she fits in in the ecosystem of Arcadia Bay. She never had a lot of friends who were girls. Really only Max and Rachel. Other girls just usually didn't get her. And, honestly, she usually didn't get them. After Rachel disappeared, before Max returned, she mostly hung out with the skater boys almost by default. She liked skating, and she liked pot. But she usually hung with Blackwell students like Justin that she had known before she got expelled, not Arcadia Bay bros. Now most of those Blackwell kids are gone, off to college or back to their hometowns.  


Chloe muses that not every Arcadia Bay native is an asshole. She just happens to prefer hanging with people who have a few creative thoughts in their heads. Especially creative thoughts about getting out of this hicktown someday. She's taking another drag when she realizes that an actual Arcadia asshole is breaking off from the pack and approaching her. Hmm, ironic, she thinks. Holton Smith. Six feet of the most unimaginative native Arcadian bullshit possible. Fuck. She blows a smokescreen in front of her face. Ever since she let him know in no uncertain terms in eighth grade that she was not interested in him—at all, ever—he's been a total dick at every opportunity.  


He's right by her feet. "Price," he says. "Long time, no see."  


Not long enough, she thinks. She gives him the slightest upward motion of the head as a greeting and says, "Smith."  


He stands over her, blocking the sun. "You waiting on your little hero girlfriend?"  


"Yep, that's right," she says, and she decides to stand up. Because he's not gonna stand over her and talk down to her. Fuck that.  


"You two were always awful close."  


"Very true. You were always an observant guy, Holton." She drops her cigarette and grinds it under her boot heel. She's just about to try to divert him onto another topic, like whatever the hell he's up to nowadays (like she gives a crap, but she's not going to talk to him about Max) when he opens his big, stupid mouth again.  


"You teach her how to fuck yet?" He's making an obscene gesture. 

What.The.Fuck? Chloe thinks. As rage builds in her chest, she squints her eyes and tilts her head and says, "What the fuck did you just say to me?"  


He's smiling at her and for a second Chloe can't even tell if he is actually attempting to bond with her over having sex with women or if he's just being a complete dick and smiling because he knows he's offending her.  


"I'm just saying, good for you. I'm sure she hasn't slutted around like you. I'll bet she's tight as shi . . ."  


Before the final word can leave his mouth, Chloe's punching him in it. But that doesn't come close to knocking him down. And then he's punching her in the face—maybe just to get her away, maybe because that's what he wanted all along. It stings, and it knocks her off balance. Leftie—she didn't even see it coming. Then, everything is chaos. Even as she's falling, she sees other people running toward them. Someone is grabbing Holton's shoulders, and a second after her knee and palm hit different stairs, someone is helping her to her feet. "Hey, you okay?" some stranger is saying. She lunges at Holton again, and hands are on her arms, and he's laughing. Oh my God, he is such a dick.

And, then—how is this all happening so fast?—David is there. Of fucking course.  


He's trying to assess the full situation and it takes him a moment to place Chloe. "Alright! What is going on here? If you're not involved, disperse. Now." Then, "Chloe?? Are you okay?"  


Before Chloe can say anything, Holton's saying, "She hit me first! Everyone saw it. Ask 'em. I was defending myself. It was like a reflex. I didn't mean to hit her so hard." He gestures at her, with fake concern, "You okay, Chloe?"

"Fuck you, dick."  


Then David is facing her, "Chloe, what is going on?"  


"Nothing. Jesus. Nothing is going on." David is actually reaching toward Chloe's face with concern when she jerks it away. "I'm fine, David. Everything is fine. We just had a misunderstanding."  


Holton chimes in, "Yeah, exactly. A misunderstanding." His fucking smirk turns her stomach.  


David considers the situation. Two non-students. The fight over by the time he arrived. Is it worth calling the cops and possibly getting Chloe in trouble? She might even have a joint in her pocket right now for all he knows. He can't be sure. David shakes his head and says, "Alright, everybody clear out. I mean it. If everybody who doesn't attend Blackwell isn't out of here in 3 minutes, I will call the cops." The crowd is already clearing out.  


Even Holton is walking away. He tosses a "See you around, bitch" over his shoulder as he walks away, and David starts to react to it.  


Chloe says, "David, just let it go."  


He turns back to her and says, sternly now, "We will talk about this later, but right now, you better leave. You are not a student, Chloe."  


Chloe shakes her head in amazement. "Are you kidding me? I'm picking up Max in 5 minutes."  


"Chloe, I can't give you preferential treatment. Get out of here. Max can take the bus to the diner."  


"Fine! God. Does this town ever stop sucking?" Chloe realizes she's touching by her eye, testing how it feels.  


David looks conflicted. "Look, are you okay?"

Chloe shakes her head and starts to back away toward the parking lot. "Yeah, I'm fucking awesome. Gotta clear out. See you later." She turns and storms away.  


Once she gets in her truck, she looks in the rearview mirror and sees that she's probably going to have black eye. Sure, why not? She pulls out her phone and texts Max.  
Chloe: I'm so sorry, Maxaroni. I can't pick you up after all. Take the bus to the diner. Please.  
Max: ?? Thought you were here already? I was just heading over right now.  
Chloe: Sorry, Max. I'll explain later.  
Max: Okay. I'll take the bus and see you there soon. Wish I could see you now.  
Chloe: You don't, actually.  
Max: ??? I do, actually. What is going on?  
Chloe: I'll see you there. Gotta drive now.  
Chloe drops her phone on the seat, turns the key, and kicks the gas pedal.  


*****  


Chloe stops the truck around the block from the diner. She looks in the rearview mirror. There's definitely no way to hide the redness and swelling developing around her right eye. So, no way is she walking into the diner to face her mom. She picks up her phone.  
Chloe: Max, pls do me a favor. I'm parked around the corner from the diner. Come here instead of going in.  
Chloe: I'm telling my mom we decided to have pizza instead.  
Chloe: I promise I will really get you pizza too.  
Max: You're being weirdly mysterious, but okay. Be there in a few.  
Chloe: Thx.  


Chloe pulls out another cigarette and lights it. Was she imagining that her hand felt unsteady when she did it? Her heartbeat still seems a little fast. What the hell just happened back there? A jumble of images and feelings filters through her brain, but she can't seem to put everything in logical order. She never punched anyone before. A push here or there, but that isn't the same. At all. She thinks she thought it would feel better, when she had thought about it in the past. When she remembers the actual moment, it's like she's watching a movie of someone else. She can't exactly remember what it felt like. Like, just out of control.  


People probably think she likes to feel out of control, but they've got it all backwards. Every drag from a joint—or now, more often, a cheap cigarette—is just an attempt to tamp down the chaos inside her. She exhales two lungs' worth of smoke and reaches up to touch by her eye. It hurts. A little.  


She thinks back to the few times that David backhanded her. Was that what he had felt? An unstoppable rage suddenly being channeled through a hand before a conscious decision to stop it could form?  


After Max had gotten shot, after David did his best to comfort her and keep her calm in that fucking Blackwell bathroom, after everything came out about what happened with her and Nathan, after family counseling (because Joyce pleaded with her)—sometime after all of that shit, David sat next to her on the sofa one night when Joyce wasn't there, and he apologized.  


He cleared his throat and said, "I'm sorry I ever laid a hand on you, Chloe. That was wrong. I was wrong. I'm . . . I have problems controlling my anger since the war, but it was wrong to ever take it out on you. I guess I'm . . . weak sometimes. I'm working to be stronger." It was so faltering and gravelly. It took soooo long for him to say it. She knew he was trying, being sincere. He stared forward, and she stared forward. Maybe if they had made eye contact, it would've felt different. But neither was willing or able. Still, even though she couldn't really forgive him, she said, "Yeah, well . . . forget it, I guess. Can't change it. We'll turn over a new leaf or whatever it is Mom wants us to do." Then she added, "But if it ever happens again, I'll call the police on your ass." David had said, "It won't happen again," and had stood up to go upstairs. She still 50% hated him, but hearing an apology meant something.  


Now, after what had happened today, she understood a little more how maybe David felt sometimes. The difference being, though, that she was defending her girlfriend, and he was just being a controlling asshole. But maybe, sometimes you really can't control your anger. She was usually so good at it—seems like there had been days when that had been her sole mission for the full 24 hours. But today . . . what the hell? Just as her thoughts went to investigating what was different about today, and what was different about her and David, Max is opening the truck door.  


"Hey, buttercup!" Max says super cheery. She's even leaning over for a kiss, when she notices: "Oh my God, Chloe! What happened?" Max is reaching for her face.  


Chloe looks her in the eye and says, "I don't want to talk about it yet."  


But Max is still getting closer to her. "Chloe, let me at least look." Her hand is on Chloe's shoulder. "We should get some ice from your mom."  


Chloe turns away a little and starts the truck. "Uh, that's not gonna happen. Let's get out of here. There's ice at home."  


As Chloe drives, something clicks in Max's mind: "You're the fight by the fountain. . ."  


"What?"  


"Everybody on the bus was talking about it. A guy and a girl in a fistfight by the fountain."  


Chloe blows smoke out her nose, flings her cigarette out the truck window, and says, "Damn, news travels at lightspeed in this flea circus of a town."  


"So it was you?"  


"Yeah, apparently."  


Max's voice sounds worried and annoyed at the same time, her hand is on Chloe's upper arm as she says, "Chloe, what happened?" Chloe sees her blue eyes are filled with worry. But she's not ready to talk.  


"Max, can we just talk at home?"  


Max assesses the situation and realizes there's no point in pushing it right now. She sighs and says, "Yeah, well, I hope we do. Chloe, this isn't okay." Then Max keeps her silence for the rest of the ride.  


*****  


When they get to Chloe's house, Chloe bails immediately and goes right to the drawer in the kitchen with all the delivery menus.  


She hears Max closing the front door, "Chloe, talk . . ."  


Chloe points to the phone at her ear, "On the phone."  


Max shakes her head and puts her bag down on the table.  


"Do you want anything other than pizza?"  


"No," Max says a little angrily. "Why am I angry?" she thinks. "Someone hurt Chloe, and I'm angry at her? Does that even make sense?" She goes to the freezer and pulls out a bag of peas. "No, I'm angry because she won't talk. But how many times has she tried to get me to talk after a nightmare, but I wasn't ready? Max, give her some space."  


As Chloe taps her phone to end the phone call, Max holds the bag of peas out. "Hold this on your eye."  


Chloe looks at the bag and says, "Get the Brussels sprouts instead."  


Max shakes the bag and says, "This is better. Brussels sprouts will be all bumpy on your face."  


Chloe grabs the peas and walks toward the freezer. "But I like to eat peas, and I don't like to eat Brussels sprouts. Win-win." At least she's smiling, although that reaction seems a little strange to Max right now, too.  


When Chloe has the Brussels sprouts bag in hand, Max takes her other hand and says, "Come sit on the couch with me."  


But Chloe pulls her arm and says, "Let's go to my room."  


"Okay, sure. Let's go to your room."  


*****  


They go upstairs, and Max sits on the bed and pats the space next to her. But Chloe goes to sit at the desk. Max looks at her with a concerned look. After they sit quietly for a few moments, Chloe holding the Brussels sprouts to her face and Max just looking at her, Max says, "Look, why don't you lie on the bed so you don't have to hold the bag, and I'll sit at the desk."  


Chloe smiles a small smile: "Max, you know what you are?"  


Max expects an immediate followup to the question, but silence envelops them again. Finally, she says, "I'm not sure what you're getting at. What am I?"  


"You're nice. And you know what most people aren't? Nice."  


Max sighs. "So, you got in a fight with someone because they weren't nice? You're gonna be in a lot of fights . . ." She doesn't even mean to sound aggravated, but it comes out sounding that way a little. She just doesn't want Chloe to get hurt. She's seen that way too many times . . .  


Chloe shakes her head, "Do you even want to hear what happened before you judge me? God, Max."  


Max walks over to the desk chair and squats in front of Chloe, "Yes, I want to hear what happened. And I don't want to judge you, before or after." Her eyes are big and clear, and they implore Chloe to open up to her. "Tell me. Please."  


Chloe puts the frozen veggies on the desk. "This has got to be the stupidest shit that has happened to me in a year. Even when I tell you, it's just going to sound ridiculous."  


"Well, tell me anyway."  


"Ok, here goes. Holton Smith said something vulgar about you, so I punched him in the mouth, and he punched me in the face." Chloe starts to laugh a laugh that isn't really happy, but it does the trick of releasing some of the tension she's been holding since the fight. "Oh my God, it is so stupid. You can't make this shit up."  


Max asks, "Holton Smith from your eighth grade?"  


"Yeah. Do you remember that asshole?"  


"Just that he was an asshole. And he kind of liked you."  


"Yep, that's him."  


"So, you saw Holton Smith by the fountain today, and he said something rude about me. . ."  


"About both of us, actually."  


"About both of us. And then you punched him in the face? And he punched you back. That's the story?"  


"That's the truth, Beta Max."  


"Are you joking?"  


"No, that is exactly what happened."  


"Jesus, Chloe." Now Max laughs too. She isn't even sure what's funny about the situation. It's just ridiculous enough. The kind of ridiculous that real life is. Then she's holding Chloe's face. "Look, all that matters is, are you okay?" She moves her hands gently to get different angles on the bruise by Chloe's eye.  


"Yeah, I guess so. You're not mad, right?"  


Max shrugs her shoulders. "No, I'm not mad at you. I am mad at that asshole. I mean, I don't want you to get in fights, because I don't want you to get hurt . . . But I guess weird shit happens sometimes. Oh, no . . .wait . . .that's right, I *know* weird shit happens sometimes. Weird shit and totally fucked-up, horrible shit. So I think we're going to file this under stupid shit and move on. I'm sorry it happened. I wish I had been there. I would've punched him too."  


"Now that would've been funny."  


"Hey!"  


"Just sayin'. These aren't exactly boxer's arms." Chloe squeezes Max's biceps.  


Max leans in to wrap her arms around Chloe and pulls her close. "And yours are?" She releases the hug and squeezes Chloe's biceps. "Mmm, Tysonesque. How's your Crossfit training going?" They exchange raised eyebrows—and smiles. When Max stands up and steps back, she says, "So what did he say, anyway?"  


Chloe shakes her head: "I'm not gonna say it."  


Max nods her head in response. "Okay. Well, I'm sorry he said it, because obviously it was pretty offensive, and it hurt your feelings. But hopefully he learned his lesson. Dickhead."  


"Max, he is such a dickhead. But he didn't hurt my feelings."  


"Uh, okay. . ." Max tries to figure out if it was worth digging into that and decides it isn't. "Well, I guess you'll just have to look a little more badass than usual for a few days."  


"Guess so. So what happened with you at school today?"  


"Nothing within 10 miles of being as interesting as all that. . ." But they start to talk about a new photography project Max Is working on and for a little while it goes back to being a regular day. Chloe still feels unsettled, but she pushes it down because she doesn't feel like dealing with it.  


*****  


As they sit at the table finishing their pizza, David comes home. Chloe sighs when the door opens and closes.  


David comes in and says, "Max, excuse me, but I need to talk to Chloe alone for a few minutes."  


Max looks at Chloe, "Chloe?" Chloe knows Max won't leave her alone with him if she asks her to stay. But she says, "It's cool. Go read for your class or whatever and I'll be up in a couple minutes."  


"Okay." Max puts her plate in the sink and looks back at Chloe from the kitchen. Her eyes ask, "You sure you're okay?" Chloe gives her the slightest nod, and Max heads upstairs.  


David sighs, then looks at Chloe and says, "So things have been pretty calm with you for months, Chloe. What happened today?"  


"I got in a fight with an asshole," Chloe answers, a hint of anger in her voice.  


David absorbs the anger and doesn't return it. He says as calmly as he can, "Okay, why?"  


Chloe looks David right in eye. She thinks silently, "Could you ever just be on my side and support me? Ever? Just once?" She blurts it all out: "That idiot hasn't liked me since eighth grade because I told him I wasn't interested in him. So today he came over to me and said something rude about Max. Something vulgar about Max, and about me, and I lost my cool. And I punched him. I don't give a shit what anyone says about me, but I'm not gonna let someone say something rude about Max. Can you understand that? Please." Whoa, Chloe thought, I didn't mean to say that please out loud. Oh well, it was out there now.  


David considers her quietly for a moment. He weighs his words. "I know you love Max, Chloe. But you shouldn't let some asshole use that against you. Don't let your strength turn into a vulnerability." Chloe looks at him like she isn't really in the mood for a discussion on the art of war. He starts again. "Look, just don't let it happen again. That guy was a lot bigger than you. I don't want you to get hurt. Especially not on my watch. After last year . . ." He pauses for a second, thinks of how Chloe could've been shot in that bathroom as easily as Max, then simply says, "I get it. Let's call this thing over with and move forward again. Are we on the same page here?"  


Chloe looks at him thinking, "I guess that's close enough to what I was hoping for." "Yeah, we're good. Uh, do you think you could talk to Mom about this tonight and tell her I'll talk to her about it tomorrow? I'm just kind of done with it for today. Cool?"  


David looks down at his hands, then the table. He likes sharing this moment with Chloe, feeling like she trusts him with something. He says, "Can I have some of this pizza?"  


"Uh, sure. Have what's left. Deal?"  


"Deal."  


As Chloe goes up the stairs, David calls out. "Chloe?"  


"Yeah?" Just the slightest hint of irritation.  


"Good night."  


"Yeah, good night, David."  


*****  


Chloe walks into her room. Max is sitting on her bed on the window side—her side—barefoot, already in her sleep shirt and shorts, reading a book. So fucking adorable.  


"Everything okay with David?"  


"Surprisingly, yes."  


"I didn't hear any shouting, so I figured you didn't need a Max rescue special."  


Chloe kicks her boots off into the closet, then stands by the edge of the bed and pulls off her jeans. She sits down and pinches the spine of the book between her fingers and begins to lift it out of Max's hands. She puts it down on the floor and says, "Max, do you think we can cuddle?"  


Max looks at her with a smile. "Do you mean actually cuddle or 'cuddle?'" She forms air quotes with her fingers.  


"Hey, I like to cuddle." Chloe actually sounds a little hurt.  


"I know that. C'mon, come here. I'm sorry." Max reaches out her hand and touches beneath the bruise. "Chloe, I am really sorry this happened." She leans forward to kiss her gently. She's surprised when at the end of the kiss Chloe wraps her arms around her shoulders tight to pull her close and then doesn't let go as seconds tick by.  


"Chloe?"  


"Hold on." Chloe stands up, turns off the main light, and turns on the colored lights. She turns on the stereo, and some hipster music Max likes comes drifting out of the speakers. Whatever, as long as Max likes it. She pulls off her tank and bra and deposits them on the desk chair before walking back around to Max's side wearing just her panties and a black eye.  


"Scoot over."  


Max scoots, and Chloe gets under the blanket and lies down next to her. She leans her head on Max's breast and Max wraps her arm around her. They are silent for a minute, then Max says quietly, "Let me take this off." Chloe sits up and watches while Max takes off her shirt too. "There. Come back." Max lies down and puts her hand on Chloe's back again, gently pulling her toward her. When she feels Chloe's left cheek press back against her breast again, she sighs contentedly. "Much better."  


"Much," Chloe says, and she sighs, too. But her sigh is filled with sadness.  


Max isn't sure what Chloe is thinking, but she doesn't want to push too hard. She puts her right hand in Chloe's hair and massages the back of her head and kisses her forehead. "Chlo?"  


Chloe's puts her arm over Max's body, wrapping the fingers of her right hand around Max's ribs. She sighs again, then finally says, "How can I protect you?"  


Max shakes her head slightly: "Protect me? What are you talking about?"  


"I mean this world is fucked up. I couldn't protect myself from Nathan. I couldn't protect Rachel from Nathan. Apparently I couldn't protect you from Jefferson in your other timeline. . . . Sorry. I shouldn't even say his name."  


Max kisses the top of Chloe's head again. "Chloe, you're brave. You got away from Nathan. You've stepped between me and Nathan. Between me and David. In other timelines. And you punched Holton today over whatever he said. I'm not saying you should go around doing that, but I know you will always protect me. Even with your life if you had to." For a second, Max is in the junkyard again. She feels choked up, and can't say anything more.  


"Like you did for me?" A sigh and a head shake, "Max, it just seems like there's always some other asshole who wants to hurt you in this world. It can never be . . . peaceful."  


"It does feel like that sometimes," Max agrees. She's is so used to Chloe sounding angry, but right now she sounds so sad. "Chloe, I'm sorry. . . I'm sorry that guy was such an asshole today." Before she can think of something else comforting to say, Chloe continues.  


"I just love you, Max. I want to keep you safe. Why is it so impossible? Why isn't anyplace safe?"  


"I understand, believe me, after everything. I feel the same way about you, about wanting to protect you. I don't know why everything has to be so messed up. But I am safe right here, right now, with you. We're safe here together. That's what matters." Somehow being naked, pressed against each other—under the blanket, under the lights—having this discussion makes it that much more emotional.  


Chloe moves on top of Max, slipping her legs between Max's and wrapping her fingers around both sides of Max's ribcage. She doesn't look Max in the eye right now. She looks at Max's pale, soft skin. Her belly button that somehow manages to be adorable and sexy at the same time. She says quietly, "You're so small."  


Max, just slightly offended:"Um, I'm pretty close to average."  


"No, you're small." Chloe looks up at Max as her hands move to cover Max's breasts, resting on them gently. "Compared to this whole fucked-up world." She kisses Max just beneath the rib cage.  


"Hmm. In that case, so are you."  


"I know." Chloe is wrapping her arms around Max, pulling her as close as she can, resting her head between Max's breasts. "Max . . ." She kisses Max's sternum. "Sometimes I just want to hide in here with you and not go back out there anymore."  


Max is rubbing a circle between Chloe's shoulder blades. "Sounds nice," she says quietly.  


Chloe is sliding up Max's body, kissing her collarbone, her neck, her cheek. She presses her torso against her. She wants as much skin contact as possible. When she looks Max in the eye, it takes the breath away from both of them. "Max . . ."  


Max reaches up to gently trace her fingers on the swelling by Chloe's eye. "Yes, my badass lover. What can I do for you?" She smiles that smile that always melts Chloe's heart. Just pure love, all directed at her. Chloe can't answer her. She lets her eyelids shut first and starts to kiss her gently. She rolls to her side so she can wrap her arms around Max. She can't tell what she wants more—to hold her or to touch her. She just wants to be closer . . .  


They're kissing, and holding each other, the rest of the world receding second by second. For a long time, they just caress one another with gentle hands, physical presence giving reassurance in a way words can't. Slowly comfort builds to passion. Then Chloe is sliding her fingers over Max's wet clit, trying to remember how to breathe. It's all slow, and quiet—and peaceful. When Max whispers Chloe's name, it feels like her heart stops in her chest. They shift again, so Chloe is half on top of Max, touching her and sheltering her and feeling like her heart is breaking from loving her. Somewhere in the back of her head she thinks, damn, this is the slowest . . . hottest sex ever. Max is reacting under her touch, pushing against her with her body, pulling her closer with her hands. Chloe increases the pace and the intensity of her touch, and whispers, "I've got you, Max." A jolt travels through Max's body, her chest raising against Chloe, her head tilting back. And then Max lies flat, exhaling and saying—emphasizing each word—"I love you so much." An electric shock fills Chloe's chest and head.  


Chloe rests her cheek back on Max's breast again. She doesn't think she can look at her without crying. And she doesn't want to cry. She just wants to stay in this moment, Max's hand holding the side of her head, Max's heart still racing. "Max, I love you too. Thanks."  


Max laughs quietly: "Thanks?"  


Finally, Chloe lifts her head to look at Max. That smile is still there—softer and more intense at the same time. Holy shit, Max is so beautiful and she totally doesn't believe it. "Thanks for reminding me everything doesn't suck."  


"Oh. Well, thank you, too, then."  


"You're beautiful."  


Max rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "No. I'm just the nerdy girl who loves you."  


Chloe says seriously, "No, you're the beautiful woman I'm in love with."  


"Sounds like we have an identity crisis on our hands. Won't be the first time for me." Of course, Max laughs it off. At least she heard it. Chloe is still thinking about how beautiful Max is, when she realizes Max is saying something to her and moving her arms. "Uh, sorry, what?"  


"I said, this is what I meant about your confusion about 'cuddling.'" Max and her air quotes again.  


Chloe squeezes her tight. "No confusion. I'm gonna cuddle the hell out of you for the rest of the night, Caulfield."  


A few minutes later, Chloe is spooning Max, staring at the lights over the desk, sometimes glancing out the window. The way they're facing, she doesn't have to worry about her eye, but she can't help thinking about it. And then she stops herself. No, don't think about that idiot, about any of that shit. Max Caulfield is in your arms right now. Stay here, in this moment, and embrace what you wanted for so long. Sometimes the only way to keep the bad things from ruining the good ones is to narrow your focus and hold on tight.  


Max says sleepily, "Chloe, are you okay?"  


"Yeah, Max. Right now I'm pretty good."


End file.
